


Crossed Wires

by ORiley42



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secret Relationship, but NOT between our boys just literally everyone else, it's love baybee!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: Geordi and Data had been dating in secret for months. Quite successfully, too, if they said so themselves. That is, until Worf walked in on them “running diagnostics” in a Jefferies tube, sans certain articles of their uniforms.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 20
Kudos: 64





	Crossed Wires

**Author's Note:**

> My first Data/Geordi work! I started writing this last year when I finished a TNG rewatch, and just had to come back and finish it up. Couldn't leave these precious boys stuck in a WIP forever!! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy <3

Geordi and Data had been dating in secret for months. Quite successfully, too, if they said so themselves. That is, until Worf walked in on them “running diagnostics” in a Jefferies tube, sans certain articles of their uniforms.

Worf took it in stride. Crossing his arms and appraising the two of them, he asked, “How long have you two been…” he paused while searching for the correct euphemism, “…involved?”

“Seven weeks, four days, eleven hours, twenty-two minutes—” there was a barely perceptible pause before Data added, “and seventeen seconds.” Geordi squeezed Data’s hand and smiled. He knew Data had been leaving off seconds in recent calculations for his human shipmates, but he also agreed that in this case, every second of their time together was worthy of inclusion.

“And your reason for deceiving your crewmates on this count?” Worf followed up, ever the interrogator.

“It’s not that we want to lie or keep some big secret,” Geordi hedged, “it’s just that we don’t want it—want _us_ —to be the subject of ship-wide gossip. You know how these things spread. One person whispers in Ten Forward and by the end of shift, a different distortion’s being told on every deck.”

Worf considered. “That is an accurate appraisal of the state of hearsay on the Enterprise.” He nodded, short and decisive. “Very well. I see no reason to expose your personal lives to increased surveillance. Unless you intend to make your relationship a security risk…”

“We don’t,” Geordi confirmed.

“How would one go about doing such a thing?” Data wondered.

Geordi laughed and started to shepherd Data away. “He’s just kidding,” Geordi assured Worf, who harrumphed.

“I was not engaging in jest, I was merely curious—”

Worf rolled his eyes as the two exited the juncture with a whoosh of doors.

That evening, Data settled himself primly beneath the duvet of Geordi’s bed while Geordi went about his nighttime routine. Data wore a replicated set of purple silk pajamas, the color of which he found pleasing and the texture of which Geordi liked to press his face into, which they both found pleasing.

Geordi stretched, cracking his back before flopping onto the pillows. Not yet ready to remove his VISOR for the night, he massaged his temples near the device ports. Data took over this task, letting Geordi lean back against his chest. “Geordi,” he began, “There was something I wanted to discuss with you.”

“That thing with Worf today?” Geordi guessed, “Yeah, that was…unexpected. Lucky he didn’t write us up for something like inappropriate fraternization.”

“Or for being out of uniform,” Data added, meriting a laugh he didn’t entirely understand but nonetheless appreciated. “The discovery of our relationship has always been inevitable, and although it may have been preferable to be more fully clothed when discovered—"

“Ugh,” Geordi winced at the memory.

“—Worf’s reaction to what could be considered shocking information falls well within acceptable parameters of collegial support. However, it was another matter I wished to raise, one related to our professional duties. Specifically, the amount of responsibility and labor you have undertaken during the on-going upgrade of the central computer systems.”

Geordi grumbled incoherently and wiggled out of Data’s embrace.

Data persevered. “Perhaps you could request additional command personnel to assist with organizing the continued implementation of the upgrades.”

“Hey, I can _do_ this.”

“Of that I have no doubt. However, based on information regarding your physical and mental well-being in the course of the past three days, it would appear that you cannot ‘do this’ without substantial emotional and psychological stress, as well as moderate physical exhaustion with potential longer-term health consequences.”

This did not make Geordi feel better.

“There is no reason to experience negative health outcomes when they can be avoided through acquiring reasonable assistance,” Data pointed out, innocent as always.

Geordi chewed the inside of his cheek. “Well, there is a reason, but it’s pride. So, a lousy reason.”

“You believe the captain or others on the ship may think less of you if you request aid?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Geordi shifted, threading the hem of the sheet through his fingers.

“It would be quite unfounded if they did, as they require similar assistance in the conduct of their own duties. We all do.”

“You’re right, Data. I know you are. I think the real reason is just…well. This ship, the computer—she’s kind of my baby.”

“Your…baby?”

“Metaphorically.” Adopting the clear, explanatory tone that he’d found worked wonders with Data’s more literal moments, Geordi went on, “She’s an entity that I care for deeply, and feel protective of, as one might a child.”

“Ah.” Data’s pleased expression when he believed he’d conquered an obscure human aphorism hadn’t yet ceased to be thoroughly adorable. “I understand. Then, perhaps, to assuage your worry, your work should be accompanied by someone whose knowledge of the ship’s system equals your own, and whom you trust.”

Geordi grinned. “Have someone in mind?”

Data paused, hesitant. “I intended to indicate I was speaking of myself, in that statement.”

Geordi laughed and hauled Data in closer (technically, he tugged on Data’s shoulders, which Data had learned meant he was to move in closer—the first few times Geordi had attempted this, it was like trying to move Everest with a forklift). “I understand. And yes, I would love to have your help. I’ll ask the captain if he can spare you from the bridge for a day or two.”

Geordi took Data’s face in both hands and kissed him. He pulled away briefly to remove his VISOR and set it in its bedside stand, then returned to the embrace.

Data didn’t have a sense of taste, per se, but he nonetheless had a variety of sensors that could relay the physical make-up of molecules to his cybernetic brain, where they could be interpreted according to something akin to human taste, albeit minus the emotional linkages.

Although some flavors could be easily recognized and cataloged—the Aldosian curry Geordi had replicated for dinner, for example—others defied naming, except that they seemed native to Geordi himself.

Data had filed away a significant storage bank containing all such sensory inputs. He visited this bank frequently in spare moments, returning to them for no particular reason he could determine. It served little purpose merely to re-live moments of information acquisition, especially without further analysis, but when Data had expressed the concern that he’d developed some sort of cyclical memory-retrieval malfunction, Geordi had just laughed and said he was flattered. Data still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he took Geordi’s ease to mean it was alright if sometimes, when charting the Enterprise’s course and performing his other sundry duties was taking up less than 5% of his processing capabilities, he returned to this storage bank and lingered on those recycled sensory inputs.

_Engineering, 0900 hours_

“How about now?” Geordi called from where he’d crawled halfway inside an engineering panel with a tricorder and a determined expression.

“Still negative,” Data confirmed, his own tricorder beeping morosely.

“Dammit,” Geordi swore, followed by a clatter of metal and more swearing.

Wesley came upon this scene and seriously considered tiptoeing away before he was noticed. Data was too quick for him, however, and asked, “Is there something you need, Wesley?”

“Um, yeah, Lieutenant Xel and I were just monitoring the warp core variance, like you asked, and we thought the input showed an unusual pattern. Probably not serious, but if you just took a quick look at it, then we could be sure…”

Data nodded. “Of course.” He followed Wesley over to the core, requesting that Xel temporarily replace him in assisting Geordi’s repairs.

Data and Wesley spent a minute going over the information before they agreed that the strange pattern was most likely born of a security code mismatch in the upgrade process setting off an incomplete alert in the warp assembly system. Data instructed Wesley, “Please tell Geordi that we are going to quarantine this conduit until we can determine if the corrupted code has spread beyond it.”

Wesley nodded and hopped back across engineering towards Geordi and Xel. He arrived as more unhappy noises emanated from the engineering panel. Then Geordi called out, “Ugh, honey?”

Wesley froze, seeing Xel tense as well. “Can you hand me the isolitic converter, this thing’s developing a real temper.”

Xel did so sheepishly, and without a word. They didn’t look at Wesley, and Wesley didn’t look at them with equal vigor.

“Lieutenant Xel,” Data gestured for the Trill to re-join him near the core, and Xel did so with visible relief. Geordi clambered out of the panel a moment later, irritation creasing his brow.

“What now?” he sighed when he spotted Wesley.

“Uh, just wanted to let you know that we’re quarantining one of the secondary plasma conduits. Small code error, we’re just going to track down the source.”

“Fine.” Geordi stood, gingerly straightening his knees.

Wesley knew he should shut up and leave. However. He didn’t want to. “So…” he trailed off meaningfully, trying not to grin.

Geordi was in no mood for games. “So, _what_?”

“I just, well,” Wesley fidgeted, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you just said ‘honey’ and I was like ‘that’s not standard engineering terminology,’ and then I figured it out and…well, I just didn’t know about you and…” Wesley jerked his chin towards the warp core where Xel was consulting Data, now wielding a hyperspanner.

“Oh, um,” Geordi tensed up, “that’s…we’re…”

“Hey, no worries,” Wesley held up his hands, “Keeping it on the downlow, got it.”

“Thanks, Wes,” Geordi released a sigh of relief. “We’re just trying to maintain our privacy for as long as we can.”

“You can count on me,” Wesley assured him, waving as he walked backwards, narrowly avoiding a collision with the systems display console.

“Why does that not reassure me,” Geordi shook his head.

_Sickbay, 1300 hours_

“Hey, mom!” Wesley skipped into sickbay that afternoon, doing a clumsy pirouette as he searched out his mother, finally spotting her in the main lab, “Guess what I found out in engineering!”

“How to engineer things?” Beverly offered, gaze not leaving the wall display.

“No! I mean, yeah, obviously, but…do you know Lieutenant Xel?”

“Uh, tall Trill with the big smile?”

“That’s the one! Guess who they’re dating?”

“Who?” Bev replied, indulgently.

“Geordi!” Wesley whispered, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

“That’s nice.”

“That’s nice!” Wes repeated, indignant. “Come on, I tell you the hottest scuttlebutt on the ship and all I get is, ‘that’s nice’?”

“Why is it such hot gossip?”

“Because it’s a secret, Geordi asked me not to tell anyone.”

Beverly laughed. “Does that make me no one?”

Wesley rolled his eyes. “No.” The ‘duh’ went unspoken. “It’s just that you’re my mom, and when people say something’s a secret, they don’t mean from your _mom_.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Beverly smirked down at her tricorder.

“Sure, it is!” Wesley insisted, “Everyone knows you can tell your mom anything. And—” he glanced with trepidation down at the apparently unconscious Bolian reclining on the nearest biobed, “he, uh, he’s actually asleep, right?”

“Yes,” the hairdresser answered.

Wesley winced.

“Don’t worry,” Mot said with a smile, “In the salon, I hear more secrets in a day than an expert Romulan interrogator could get in a lifetime. Like,” he pushed himself up on his elbows, “I happen to know that Xel is… _married_.”

Wesley gasped.

“That doesn’t mean there’s anything untoward happening! Polyamory is common enough,” Beverly pointed out, but she’d begun chewing on the end of her stylus.

“Maybe,” Mot agreed, “though the partnership jewelry I’ve seen Xel wear off-duty would indicate a monogamous agreement, if my understanding of Trill custom is up to date. And it is.”

“That explains why Geordi wants to keep it a secret!” Wesley enthused.

“Out, both of you!” Beverly declared. “Wesley, you’ll stop this gossip-mongering at once. Mot, I can’t stop you, but I can tell you that all you’ve got is a mild case of heartburn, so lay off the I’danian spice pudding and get out of my sickbay.”

“Thanks doc!” Mot trundled off, a slightly abashed Wesley on his heels.

“Gossip, it spreads faster than the flu,” Beverly muttered to herself.

_Holodeck 2, 1900 hours_

“Is this really a good idea?”

“You have asked that on four separate occasions since I suggested the outing,” Data noted, “And although it places no undue pressure on my internal resources to answer it in the affirmative yet again, I do not wish for you to put yourself in an anxious state.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Geordi straightened the brim of his bowler for the umpteenth time.

“There is no need to apologize. The point of this exercise is to relax, so as to ensure your continued positive state of mind and body—”

Data paused in both speech and walk, carefully stopping Geordi too as they made to enter the holodeck and nearly smacked right into an exiting Worf.

“Just our luck,” Geordi said without thinking as he and the chief of security stared each other down. “Uh, no offense, Worf.”

“None taken. I share the sentiment.” He glowered down at them. “I trust there is no intention to repeat any misuse of Starfleet facilities?”

“Just an innocent Holmes mystery,” Geordi promised. “Data wants to take my mind off the computer upgrades.”

Worf grunted. “The upgrades have been a significant undertaking, and not without risk.”

“Putting it mildly, and that’s not even—”

“Geordi,” Data interrupted as politely as he could, “the objective of utilizing the holodeck was to give you space to exercise physically and mentally in ways contravening the repetition and stress of your engineering routine. If you would prefer not to engage —"

“No, Data, I’m still on board for an evening of Holmes. How about you get the program running, and I’ll join you in a minute—or, less than five minutes,” Geordi clarified, since if he didn’t, he’d be seeing Data again in 59 seconds.

“Very well.” The holodeck doors rumbled open and then shut, swallowing Data.

“I’d actually been meaning to talk to you,” Geordi turned back to Worf, “I’m aware that it’s SOP for high-ranking officers to clear any…romantic entanglements with an appropriate member of the senior staff.”

“Counselor Troi usually handles such matters.”

“Yeah, usually, but I’m concerned that this will be treated as a security issue rather than an interpersonal one. After what happened with Maddox and how precarious Data’s rights have been outside the Enterprise, we can’t trust that Data’s personal life will be any more protected than his professional one has been.”

Worf cottoned on quickly. “You believe another ill-intentioned cyberneticist could uncover a report regarding your relationship status and mobilize it as leverage against the Commander’s autonomy.”

“Well, uh, I hadn’t had such a _specific_ concern, but now I do, thanks.”

“I understand,” Worf nodded, “If you wish, I could make some discreet inquiries as to how we may maintain both your privacy and above-board personnel files without risk to Commander Data or yourself.”

“Thank you, Worf,” Geordi risked putting both hands on Worf’s shoulders. The guy wasn’t exactly known for being touchy-feely, but Geordi figured the occasion allowed for a little affection. “That really would mean a lot to me.”

Worf nodded again before scarpering—in a very noble, contained sort of way. Probably worried Geordi might try and go for a hug.

Worf nearly plowed headlong into Riker, approaching him from the opposite direction. (This really wasn’t his day for unobtrusive exits.)

“Whoa! What’s the hurry?” Riker glanced around Worf’s broad shoulder to see Geordi disappearing into the holodeck.

“Nothing, Commander.” Worf stood at uneasy attention.

“You seem anxious to escape your conversation with Mr. La Forge,” Riker countered, “Something I’d be interested in?”

“It is a private matter!” Worf barked. Riker blinked and Worf added, “sir.”

Riker pursed his lips. “Understood. Carry on, Lieutenant.”

Worf offered a brusque nod before attempting another escape.

He made it down almost half a corridor before practically bowling over Deanna.

“Counselor,” Worf said shortly, increasing his speed before he could repeat the uncomfortable situation, yet again.

“Worf,” she replied, even as his powerful strides took him around the corner.

She hmmed to herself, eyes narrowing. She loosened the leash on her senses, wondering if she could catch the emotional tail end of whatever situation had sent the Enterprise’s security chief scurrying.

All she picked up on was a sudden wave of affection— _love_ —coming from the holodeck. Deanna didn’t intend to pry, but having reached out for the feelings around her, she was now borne aloft on the strength of this one, and so nearby.

Geordi? She wondered, taking an unconscious step towards the holodeck doors. And who are you with?

She reined her empathy back in, not wanting to snoop, even to satisfy her now-burning curiosity. But as she purposefully filled her mind with the soft static of inattention that got her through the day, she realized that there was no one else. She couldn’t sense another emotional presence in the holodeck with Geordi. But if he wasn’t with a person, then who else but the holographic characters—?

“Oh no,” she whispered, putting a palm to her forehead, “Geordi, not again.”

_Ten Forward, 1915 hours_

Riker wandered into Ten Forward, worrying the chin of his beard. He spotted Beverly near the window and made a beeline for her.

“Hi Will,” she greeted him, “Are you alright? You look troubled.”

“I just…oh, never mind. It was nothing.” Will sighed, throwing his leg over a chair and sitting heavily down. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Beverly sighed, tossing back the remainder of her drink, “Just wishing Wes hadn’t saddled me with some gossip I’d rather not know about.”

Riker waited patiently, for all of two seconds. “Well? You can just say something like that and leave me hanging.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s personal, and about a friend of ours.”

“Which friend?”

Bev chewed her lip, debating whether Will could be trusted not to speak out of turn. She decided he probably couldn’t, but she was dying to talk to an adult about the issue. And who knows, maybe he’d already heard! “Geordi. And his new…paramour.”

“Oh,” Riker was nonplussed. “Who’s he seeing?”

“If you don’t know, I probably shouldn’t say.”

“Why not? Is it a secret?”

“Well, it supposed to be. They don’t want to be caught, but they work together, and it sounds like they’re not always that subtle.”

Riker started to have an inkling of what might be going on. It certainly would explain why Worf was so anxious not to be caught with a certain other member of the bridge crew… “So, they work together, huh?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Deanna asked, gliding up to the table, a vision in turquoise.

“Geordi’s love life,” Riker admitted without shame.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Deanna slid into an empty seat, leaning towards them, “I just found out and I’m dying to talk about it.”

“Did Wes get to you, too?” Beverly asked.

Deanna shook her head, hailing a passing waiter. “Nope, figured it out on my own. Passed by the holodeck…”

“Me too,” Riker added. “But what I still don’t understand is, why all the secrecy?”

“Well, it’s not exactly…aboveboard,” Beverly offered delicately.

Riker shifted in his seat, brow creasing. “Well, I’d just say it’s…unexpected.”

“To say the least,” Beverly tapped the table with one sharp fingernail. “And I can’t say I approve. Not that it’s really any of my business. I know Geordi is a reasonable adult who can do what he wants, but…”

“But speaking in a professional capacity, it’s not exactly healthy,” Deanna finished for them both.

“It might be old fashioned of me,” Beverly continued, paying no notice to Will’s increasingly stunned expression, “But I just don’t think it’s right to be with someone who’s, well, who’s—”

“Who can’t…” Deanna searched for the right phrase, “genuinely reciprocate one’s feelings or commitment.”

“It’s not like the relationship will be able to go anywhere, with one party tied down like that,” Beverly pointed out.

“Certainly not! What could—”

Will had had enough. He put his foot down. Or rather, his hand.

He slapped the table in a display of righteous indignation. “I’m astonished at both of you, talking about our colleague—about our _friend_ —like this!”

“We only want what’s best for him,” Beverly protested.

“What’s _best?_ I think what you’re demonstrating is close to intolerance!” Will declared.

Deanna was ready to call time-out on the whole conversation on account of innuendo-overload and a sneaking suspicion that they were talking at cross purposes, but the comm sounded before she could.

“Bridge crew to the situation room,” Picard’s clipped tones ordered. The trio rose in uneasy silence, abandoning their drinks and their argument to attend to their duty.

_Corridor to the Situation Room, 1927 hours_

“I’m not annoyed at you, Data, just at the timing,” Geordi explained. “Not only is our evening cut short, but here I am, showing up to some potentially critical situation in a monkey suit.”

Data glanced down at his own uniform, which had replaced the vintage garb in slightly less than twelve seconds when the call came through, due to a combination of his android super-speed and forethought.

Geordi caught the look and sighed. “Because some of us can’t change clothes at the speed of light, like certain other people.”

“I did not intend to…leave you hanging, if that is the correct phrase. If similar future circumstances arise, would it make you feel better if I also remained in similar non-uniform attire?”

“Yeah. I know it’s a little silly, but the thing is, if we _both_ show up looking like stowaways from the 19th century, then it’s clear I’m not just trying to make a misguided fashion statement. Whatever discomfort I’d feel would be shared with you, even if you don’t actually sense it yourself. You understand?” 

Data’s lips pursed in a thoughtful frown as they filed into the situation room. “That is a complicated social milieu to navigate, but I believe I am beginning to chart the path you illustrate. It is about solidarity, not just practicality. Though I feel the best of both worlds could be attained if I were to simply double my current predictive heuristic algorithms and take similar precautionary measures for you, such as by packing one of your uniforms as well, in future holodeck journeys.”

Geordi laughed and clapped Data’s forearm as they sat down in friendly sync. “That’s sweet,” he said succinctly, and decided not to make a comment about whether this would involve Data undressing him at the speed of light, since the rest of the senior staff was settling in across the table.

Hmm. The senior staff was not just ‘settling in,’ but rather staring him down. Him, Geordi, in particular. He removed his hat and hid it under the table. No change. Was it the suit? He self-consciously adjusted his tie, wondering if something was on his face or stuck in his teeth.

Data commented privately to him, “Perhaps I am missing another social nuance, but it appears you are the subject of some sort of group scrutiny.”

“If you’re missing something, I’m missing it too. I’m definitely getting the hairy eyeball. That’s an expression,” Geordi added at Data’s confused head-quirk, “and I’m not sure what I did to earn it.”

“I’m sure you did nothing.”

Geordi couldn’t help but grin at the surety in Data’s voice. If they’d been alone, he’d have kissed him. “Nice to know I’ve got you in my corner.”

“Unless a statistically unlikely series of disastrous events occur to prevent me from doing so, I always will be.”

Geordi still couldn’t kiss him, but he squeezed Data’s knee under the table, and he was pretty sure Data understood.

“Thank you for coming,” Picard began as he marched through the doors, “I know most of you were off-duty, so I’ll make this as brief as possible. As you’re aware, we had to make an unscheduled detour to pick up the Rigelian ambassador after the talks on Aurelia 4 derailed. He fears a saboteur has made their way on board, and although I assured him this was highly unlikely, he’s insisting that the computer upgrade process has left the ship vulnerable to attack. Therefore, I’d like to collect your recommendations for what measures we could take to both address a potential security issue and sooth an anxious and important diplomat. The first order of business, I believe, should be a complete diagnostic of the upgrade progress to determine possible security breaches, under collaborative supervision from Mr. Worf and Mr. La Forge.”

Riker made a strangled sort of noise.

All eyes, bionic and otherwise, turned to him. He coughed. 

“Is there some reason our _chief_ of security should not work with our _chief_ of engineering on this important issue of technological safety?” Picard snapped.

“No, sir,” Geordi and Riker assured him simultaneously, while Worf crossed his arms and treated Riker to one of his coldest stares. Riker looked like he wished a wormhole would open up at his feet.

“If you’re worried supervising the diagnostic will interfere with the speed of the upgrades,” Geordi silently added a ‘which you shouldn’t, because I know how to do my job,’ “then I could assign someone else to work with Mr. Worf. Lieutenant Xel has been integral to the process, I’m sure they could provide excellent feedback on the upgrade’s safety and security aspects.”

“Uh, Geordi—Lieutenant La Forge,” Beverly corrected herself, “You know we trust your judgement, but…if it’s a _security_ problem, then perhaps you shouldn’t assign someone who…” Now all eyes were on her. “Well, maybe you should assign personnel with whom you’re less, uh, personal.”

“Beverly, what are you referring to?” Deanna asked, looking nervous.

Geordi wasn’t exactly nervous, but he was starting to feel hurt. What the hell was going on here?

“Oh.” Beverly looked like she also wanted to dive into that fictional wormhole Riker had been hoping would manifest. “I just meant…well, I guess the secret’s out,” Beverly batted the hair back from her face with a guilty wince in Geordi’s direction, “I think the Captain’s probably the only one here who doesn’t know, and that’s just because Wesley hasn’t had bridge duty in the last eight hours.”

“Doesn’t know what?” Geordi asked, but he didn’t get an answer.

“I didn’t mean to imply that they couldn’t work together,” Riker felt the sudden need to clarify to their Captain, who was developing the lemon-sucking expression he got when he suspected that talk of—shudder— _private_ matters was on the horizon. “There’s no reason they shouldn’t! So what if Geordi and Worf are seeing each other? That’s their business, and personally, I’m very happy for them.” Riker puffed his chest out like he’d just thrown the first brick at a space-faring Klingon Stonewall. He was not handed a rainbow bat’leth for his impressive display of allyship, however, but was instead met with a reverberating silence.

“… _what?”_ Beverly burst out.

“That’s not, we’re not…” Geordi blanched in horror, and was consequently apologetic for the expression. Worf wasn’t offended.

“I believe there has been some confusion,” Worf boomed, “Though Lieutenant Commander La Forge would no doubt make a worthy mate, he is not mine.”

“Well, then…wait, if you two aren’t together,” Riker turned on the doctor, “then what were you talking about, Beverly?”

“About how Wesley said Geordi was secretly carrying on an affair with Lieutenant Xel!”

“What?” Geordi was trapped on a carousel of baffled outrage. “Xel’s married! I helped their partner plan a remote surprise birthday party for them just last month.”

Beverly rounded on Deanna, “But wait a minute, you said—"

“Oh, I thought you two understood,” the counselor had three long fingers pressed to her forehead, “I didn’t realize you’d made these assumptions. I’m sorry, Geordi, we didn’t intend to make such a scene.”

“So, _you_ know what’s really going on?”

Deanna flinched. “I…I don’t want to air your private issues publicly, just because I wandered by the holodeck at the wrong time.”

“Uh…”

“I only want you to remember that loneliness requires human connection to cure, no machine can replace that.”

Geordi’s mouth dropped open. Then, he rose slowly to his feet. Very quietly and with great conviction, he said, “That is a terrible thing to say. And it’s not true in the least.” His chin rose in defiance. “In fact, I’ve never been so loved in all my life.”

Deanna was speechless. So was everyone else. (Riker was still stuck on mentally un-writing the best man speech he’d planned on giving at the now-presumably-off Geordi/Worf wedding.)

“I believe I understand,” Data announced, startling everyone. He joined Geordi on his feet. With purpose, he took Geordi’s hand and calmly joined their fingers. “Although your declaration is very much appreciated, Geordi, it is my deduction that the counselor was not referring to _me_ as a machine incapable of love. Based on her reference to the holodeck, I would speculate that she came to the incorrect conclusion that you had given your affections to a holographic character.” He turned and addressed the rest of the room. “I am not sure, however, how I should respond to such an extreme state of confusion resulting from a very simple fact. That it is _I_ who has the privilege of a romantic relationship with Geordi.”

“Oh,” said Deanna.

“Oh,” said Beverly.

_“Oh,”_ said Riker.

“Harrumph,” said Worf, crossing his arms, “I suppose it is a good thing that _I_ am in charge of security, if the rest of you could become so easily misguided.”

“Wait, Worf was in on it?” Riker asked, still trying to put the pieces together.

Worf didn’t reply, except to develop a rather self-satisfied expression.

“Well, ‘in on it’ sounds kind of ominous,” Geordi protested.

“There is nothing to be ‘in on,’” Data agreed, “except, I suppose, ‘in the know’ about the exact nature of our relationship.” He lifted his and Geordi’s joined hands. “I assume this is a sufficient demonstration.”

“Yes,” Deanna hurried to assure him, “It is. I’m so sorry to have violated your privacy this much, and to have made such ridiculous assumptions and mistakes.”

“We’re so happy for you,” Beverly added, “Now that we, you know, _know_.”

“Very happy,” Riker agreed, a broad grin skipping across his face.

“Yes, congratulations are in order…” Picard spoke up for the first time since he’d lost the room to the relationship drama, “though this meeting is _not_. Possibly, could we return to the issue of the Rigelian ambassador’s security concerns?” A note of desperation sounded beneath the placid irritation.

“Yes sir,” Riker acquiesced, joined in a meek slouch back to business by Deanna and Beverly.

Geordi and Data were seated as well, but the smiles never left their faces.

They filed out of the meeting not too much later, Picard’s stiff shoulders leading the crowd, as if afraid the sentimentality in the air might be contagious.

“Congratulations, you two, and sorry for being part of the gossipmongering.” Beverly patted Geordi’s shoulder as she passed, promising, “I’ll set Wes straight right away. Though I’m afraid at this rate, the rumor mill will have you dating a different person on every deck of the ship!”

“As long as no fictionally-scorned spouses come to toss drinks—or stun grenades—in my face, I think I can live with that.”

Data blinked, checking his memory banks for the reference. “Ah, in ancient Earth films, tossing an alcoholic beverage in the face of a rival was a sign of disrespect and potential entre to physical altercation.”

“Something you probably don’t have to worry about,” Riker cut in with a grin, “though I wouldn’t put it past Guinan, in one of her more jovial moods. She’d toss a synthehol in your face,” he pointed at Data’s nose, making him cross his eyes, “just to see what happens.”

“Would she?” Data asked, intrigued by the idea.

Will guffawed and Deanna rolled her eyes.

“I think we’ve bothered these poor men enough for one day,” Deanna declared, putting both hands on Will’s chest to trundle him forcefully on his way.

“Double date!” Riker mouthed over the top of Deanna’s head, following it up with a nod down to the counselor and a wink.

Geordi let the doors whoosh closed in front of them, basking in the quiet of the now-deserted situation room.

“Well, that wasn’t how I imagined we’d tell people. Since I actually thought we’d get to _tell_ people.”

“I also did not foresee such mass confusion,” Data agreed, “which leads me to wonder if my predictive algorithms are damaged, or if there was simply insufficient information from which to extrapolate.”

“I don’t think anyone could’ve expected you to predict the majority of the command staff thinking I’m dating one,” Geordi began to count them off on his fingers, “the security chief I deeply respect but who would rank high on my ‘not in a million years’ dating list. Two, my married subordinate. And three…a hologram!” Geordi let his head fall back, a laugh that turned into an annoyed sigh. “But what’s worst of all, is that no one saw the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“You, baby,” Geordi patted Data’s cheek.

“Why is that worst of all?”

Geordi paused heavily and Data guessed before he was forced to reply, “Are you upset because it indicates that I was not even in consideration for a potential romantic partner?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it ticks me off. What’s wrong with our friends that they couldn’t see how totally in love with you I am, or just how totally loveable you are?”

Data’s lips and brows quirked upward in happy sync, one of the expressions he’d developed to automatically deploy when Geordi’s words matched criteria of 1) interesting 2) complimentary or 3) generically pleasing [see subsection 47-alpha: positive response bank]. (Approaching 90% of Geordi’s turns of phrase had activated this algorithm over the last few weeks. Perhaps it needed tuning?)

“I understand why their misunderstanding makes you unhappy, but I am not bothered that your perception of me is unique,” Data explained, “In fact, I am pleased by the distinction. Is unique interpersonal insight not a key basis for love?”

“Maybe it is. I don’t know much more about love than…well, what I can hold in my own two hands,” Geordi squeezed Data’s shoulders.

Data’s positive response algorithm was really getting a workout. It had just generated a spontaneous new expression based on prognostic corollary analysis of previously indexed perceptual records.

In other words, he smiled.

“I have access to several gigaquads of data pertaining to the subject of love and its assorted ephemera, but I agree…the empirical research we have conducted is several orders of magnitude more significant.”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Geordi kissed Data in the brilliance of a passing solar flare and the shadow of an asteroid belt. Data calculated to within a 2% margin of error the conclusion that Geordi was no longer thinking about the convoluted social misunderstanding of minutes past. And so, he too decided to file the whole incident within the Socialization matrix [sub-section: Hearsay, Misinformed] for disaggregation and analysis, and instead focus on the truly essential input—the person he held in his own two hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you have a second, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment <3


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